


Cupid's Arrow

by Kaatyr



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatyr/pseuds/Kaatyr
Summary: The Cupid's Arrow dating agency launches a publicity scheme. Unfortunately for the public face of the company, Kurapika Kurta, that has very personal consequences for him. Whose great idea was it to submit his profile to the AIhecreated, then publicly announce his perfect match on a late night talk show? DefinitelynotKurapika's.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Kudos: 117





	1. The Doctor

“Can’t I stay up? Just this once?”

Leorio shuffled through a pile of scattered envelopes, cursing as three slipped off the small table and onto the floor. Beside him, his foster son Gon bounced on his feet eagerly, backpack slung over his shoulders. Leorio bent to pick up the envelopes, sighing as he realised that one was from Gon’s school. He’d have to get to that soon. Gon hadn’t said anything about a school excursion or event…

“No,” Leorio said shortly, having already answered the same question six times that morning. “It’s a school night, Gon.”

“Awww.”

Gon’s disappointed whine underlapped Leorio’s exhalation of “Yes!” as he came up with the car keys. He straightened, set the envelopes to rights on the table, then turned back to Gon, who already had his hand on the doorknob, ready to go.

Leorio did a brief check of his appearance. Slacks matching with blazer, tie tied properly, shoelaces tied… Leorio picked up his briefcase before striding over to Gon, who pushed the door open.

“I don’t know why you want to watch it, anyway,” Leorio complained as they headed to the car. Leorio had a garage, but it was currently serving as Gon’s playroom of sorts. Leorio had plans to maybe close in the back porch eventually, but that was on hold until he had the time. For now, the car was kept in the driveway.

“Everyone’s going to be watching it,” Gon explained. “Don’t you want to know if there’s a match?”

Leorio shook his head ruefully, while wondering if this entire situation was actually his fault. Maybe he should have kept his dating life to himself, but he’d felt that Gon had a right to know, and at twelve, surely he was old enough to understand.

“Gon, Mr Kurta may be a famous person—“ Leorio paused the lecture to allow both of them to get into the car. As Gon buckled up and Leorio started the car, he continued. “But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t entitled to a private life. All of this is just a publicity stunt to drum up business for the company. There’ll be a match, and it’ll probably be some famous model or actress. They’ll date for a while, enjoy the limelight, and eventually break up when they realise they can’t actually stand each other.”

Gon turned a very critical eye on Leorio that made him feel as if he were the child and Gon were the adult who had just heard something incredibly stupid come out of his mouth.

“You can’t think that way. If you go into a date thinking it’s never going to work out, then of course it won’t,” Gon told him with a seriousness that was more suited to a judge passing sentence, not a twelve year old boy giving dating advice. “You have to go into it thinking they’re the one. You have to give it everything you’ve got.”

“Oh, and you’re the authority on dating now? Remind me, how much experience have you had? Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“Remind me,” Gon snarked. “When was your last date, again?” He grinned toothily, inviting Leorio to answer though he clearly knew what the answer would be.

“Okay, look, I’m busy, kid. I’ve got a job—a really hard job, and responsibilities—like you, for example. I don’t have time to date.”

“Then why put your profile up on Cupid’s Arrow?” Gon inquired.

“Because my asshole of a best friend dared me to,” Leorio said. Truthfully, that was the simplest answer, but certainly not the whole answer. The real answer was a lot more complex. If Leorio hadn’t had his own reasons for putting the profile up, he’d never have allowed Pietro to convince him.

“Y’know, Miss Mito’s single,” Gon suggested, naming his sixth year teacher. “She’s really pretty and nice. She’s nice most of the time, anyway.”

“Thank you, but no thank you, Gon,” Leorio said. “School teachers aren’t really my type.”

“What is your type?”

Leorio frowned at the inquiry, wishing that the drive to Gon’s school was just a little shorter—or that his shift started just a bit earlier on Thursdays, which would have made this a bus day for Gon.

What was his type? During his college years, Leorio would have said something along the lines of hot and wild. Now that he’d grown up a little…

Curiously, that wasn’t one of the many questions the website had posed when Leorio had created his profile. It had asked about his job, hobbies, lifestyle, living situation, ideal day, etcetera. But not anything about what he’d hope a potential partner would be like. Even more curiously, the question of preferred gender had never come up. The site hadn’t even required that Leorio enter his own gender, which was weird. Wasn’t that a basic question that every dating site asked?

What did that say about the site’s young creator, Kurapika Kurta? Leorio knew very little about him, other than that he was a pretty little twink who appeared with alarming regularity at high-profile events and in the pages of glossy magazines. Of Kurta’s private life, no one knew anything. It seemed like the Cupid’s Arrow company trotted out their perfectly-groomed and styled poodle to publicity events just to boost their company’s profile. Kurta was apparently the genius who had programmed the system responsible for Cupid’s Arrow’s success, but was he really? Was the story that he’d done it all by himself true? Leorio had his doubts. It was a classic rags-to-riches fairy tale and it reeked of corporate greed.

Dress the cute little blond programmer in a nice tailored suit, exaggerate his achievements, throw in a few fake nuggets about a tragic past, and you have the media lapping it up like catnip. Inspirational.

Leorio did not buy it. Kurta had probably been some bright-eyed kid snapped up by a company with ambitions. He’d probably had some part in creating the system, but no way had he come up with it all on his own.

And the image Kurta projected? He was always so stiff and formal in interviews, his tone clipped. The only part Leorio enjoyed about the interviews was when the interviewer asked about how the Cupid system worked. It was the only time Kurta seemed engaged in the conversation. His big grey eyes would light up, and his entire demeanour would change. Leorio couldn’t understand a word of the blond’s answer, of course. Not even the interviewer could. Usually they would interrupt with a polite cough, then say something like, “Oh, I dropped out of high school. I don’t understand any of that.” or “Looks and brains, ladies. This one’s a catch.”. And they’d laugh cutely while Kurta would somehow find that stick up his ass again and his face would go completely blank.

Okay, so the guy might know his way around a computer but if he really had created the most successful dating website in the world all on his own…

Then why the hell was he still single?

No one had yet answered that question, but Kurta’s bachelordom looked set to end that night. In a very obvious and blatant attempt to boost publicity, the website had teamed up with a popular night talk show. They planned on submitting Kurta’s profile to the Cupid’s Arrow website to see if it found a match.

In truth, they’d already submitted Kurta’s profile. The show would really just be announcing the result, if there was one. Leorio suspected that if there wasn’t, they’d simply make one up. Hell, it would probably be fake anyway. Their golden boy couldn’t just date anyone, right? Had to be someone who’d suit the company’s image.

Gon’s question still lingered like strong perfume in the cramped quarters of the car and Leorio still had no good answer for him. Finally he said, “I don’t know. Someone who likes kids, I guess.”

“School teachers usually like kids,” Gon pointed out cheerfully.

Leorio pulled into the school’s drop-off zone and Gon unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Remember that Pietro’s picking you up this afternoon,” Leorio told him.

“Yes!” Gon cheered.

“And I’ve already told him that your curfew stands,” Leorio added.

Gon’s happy mood deflated like a punctured balloon.

“Leorioooo,” he whined.

“Have a good day,” Leorio said, completely unrepentant. They exchanged a high five, since neither of them were totally comfortable with hugging yet, before Gon slammed the passenger door shut, grabbed his backpack from the backseat, then darted into the crowd of students filing into the school.

Leorio pulled out into the flow of traffic, mentally switching tracks from ‘dad-mode’ to ‘work-mode’. A busy day waited for him at the emergency department of Yorknew General Hospital.


	2. The Poodle

“Mr Kurta, it’s so nice to meet you again. You must be so excited.”

The young man addressing Kurapika seemed oblivious to the presence of the hairdresser at his shoulder who was still trying to arrange the man’s shoulder-length honey-brown hair. Kurapika gave his best friendly (practiced) smile.

“I’m very glad to be here, Mr Connor,” he said. The man before him, greeting him with a smile that seemed a little too bright for Kurapika’s sore eyes, was Riley Connor, the charismatic host of Connor’s Corner, the late night talk show that Kurapika was about to guest on. The show hadn’t yet begun, allowing Connor to catch a brief second with Kurapika.

“Be sure to ask my assistants if you need anything. Anything at all,” Connor said, still beaming as a young woman appeared at Kurapika’s elbow.

“Kurapika, Mr Lucilfer needs a word with you,” Melody advised.

“Excuse me, Mr Connor. Thank you.”

Kurapika took his leave with relief, before following Melody through the bustle of activity and down a hall. Instead of returning to the lounge area set up for guests to pass their time until their moment of stardom, Melody led Kurapika to an office.

A dark-haired man turned from the window, coffee in hand as Kurapika entered at Melody’s gesture. He heard the door close behind him.

“Kurapika.”

Lucilfer’s stare was direct and piercing as it always was. Kurapika found himself wishing that he had a mirror in front of him so that he could check his appearance. Years of practice kept that insecurity from showing on his face, however. He’d developed one hell of a poker face—a skill necessary for these types of public events, as well as dealing with the company’s main stockholder.

“Mr Lucilfer,” Kurapika responded, his voice barely in the range considered polite.

“Coffee?” Lucilfer offered. “I could put something a little extra in to help steady your nerves?”

Kurapika inwardly winced. “No, thank you,” he said, even as he wondered just what Lucilfer had added to his own coffee. Kurapika resolutely stayed away from drugs, and alcohol as well. “I’m not nervous,” Kurapika added.

Just annoyed, really. Very, very annoyed. He’d argued vehemently that his personal life shouldn’t be used in such an… exploitative way (without actually using that word, of course) but no one on the committee had been interested in his opinion. As usual, he was expected to just do whatever he was told and go along with whatever the committee decided.

He was just the fucking programmer after all. The only reason the Cupid’s Arrow website existed in the first place.

To be fair, it could be argued that the website wouldn’t exist without Lucilfer either. Lucilfer had provided the finance needed to get the company off the ground. Kurapika wasn’t interested in being fair, however. Lucilfer was an ever-present thorn in his side. Kurapika didn’t care about the financial side of the company. He just wanted to be left alone with his computers, in the space he felt comfortable in, working on something he knew inside and out. Something that would never abandon him.

But, no. Lucilfer and the committee had come up with the ridiculous idea that the company needed a ‘face’, someone relatable, someone the media would latch onto. They’d pegged Kurapika for the job.

The money was nice and the travel was exciting, but Kurapika hated just about everything else about the job.

“Do please try to look happy when the result is announced,” Lucilfer lectured. “I know you can do it if you bother to try.”

Kurapika bristled. “I know my job,” he snapped.

Lucilfer narrowed his eyes. “And do try to keep that attitude to yourself as well, angel,” he advised. “These people are only interested in your pretty face, not what comes out of your mouth.”

Kurapika nearly snarled, his control snapping like a bow’s string that had been pulled too taut. Lucilfer was such an asshole.

“All I have to say about this is that I think it’s a disgusting and transparent publicity stunt that will backfire badly,” Kurapika snapped. The public might only be interested in Kurapika’s pretty face, but Lucilfer had no choice but to put up with Kurapika’s vicious tongue.

“It had better not, angel. If it does, I promise you, you won’t like the consequences,” Lucilfer responded darkly. “Now get out there and make nice with your adoring fans. I’m sure you don’t want to make the company look bad.”

Kurapika turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, fuming silently. Melody immediately noticed his sour mood.

“Take this, Kurapika.”

Melody handed Kurapika a cup and Kurapika wrapped his fingers around it, feeling warmth soak into his skin. The aroma drifting from the cup was familiar. His favourite honey tea. Kurapika felt the tension in his shoulders ease as he took a sip. That was exactly what he needed. Melody was a life-saver, a godsend, the real angel of the company.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully.

Melody gave him an encouraging smile. “I know this is all a bit new and frightening for you, but I’m sure this is the start of something wonderful,” she said, proving that she was a much better motivational speaker than Lucilfer. “You do have faith in Cupid, right?”

Kurapika snorted. “The little baby with the bow and arrow—which, I might add, is not an appropriate toy for a baby?” he inquired. “No, absolutely not.”

He began to stride down the hall, Melody jogging alongside, chuckling to herself.

“No, Kurapika, not that Cupid. Your Cupid,” she corrected.

Kurapika smiled, knowing that was exactly what she’d meant all along.

“I do, but…”

He trailed off. The AI worked. Of course it worked. Kurapika had programmed it from the ground up. He knew it worked.

But could it work for _him_? Maybe there was actually no one out there for him? Cupid’s Arrow’s catchphrase was that there was a true love out there for everyone, but Kurapika didn’t really believe that.

As far as he was concerned, love wasn’t some mystical thing that just happened when the stars aligned. It was something that could be calculated, could be quantified by looking at the compatibility of people. Certain personality types got along better with others of certain types. Certain people with certain lifestyles got along better with others of certain lifestyles, and so on. That was how Cupid worked. Cupid took all that data and found the most compatible match in its database. The AI had a 97.4% rate of success, which was phenomenal.

When Kurapika had built it, he hadn’t been thinking of what that success would mean for him. Of how it would change his life.

“You have to open your heart, Kurapika. Give this a real chance,” Melody told him.

“I know. I said I would,” Kurapika grumbled. As voices floated down the hall toward them, he straightened his spine and forced his face into the usual pleasant mask he always wore in front of those he didn’t consider friends.

Unfortunately for Kurapika, there weren’t very many people he actually considered a friend. In fact, the beautiful red-headed woman at his side was currently the only person on that list. The only reason that had come about was that Melody had been assigned to manage Kurapika’s public appearances. Otherwise, Kurapika was sure that they would never have even met, given that he tended to isolate himself from the rest of the company as much as possible. The only people he spoke with on a regular basis were the programmers assisting him with the day-to-day maintenance of Cupid, and Kurapika kept that strictly business. He was their boss, not their friend.

Kurapika, despite attending numerous public events, photoshoots and interviews, had nothing that could even remotely be called a ‘social life’. Kurapika was painfully aware of how messed up that was.

Melody sighed beside him, tugging on her brimmed hat.

“Look at it this way,” she suggested. “Cupid, at least, has only your best interests at heart.”

Kurapika’s mask broke unexpectedly as he chuckled. Melody was certainly very right about that. Cupid would be an unbiased judge—the committee had pledged to not interfere with the system. That had been Kurapika’s one condition for agreeing to the scheme, and he’d refused to budge so much as a millimetre on it. He still held out hope that perhaps there hadn’t been a match—Cupid itself was currently the only being who knew if one had been found or not, and Kurapika was forbidden from accessing the system. It felt as though he were forbidden from seeing his best friend.

Kurapika would have to wait along with everyone else to learn if Cupid had been successful—and if it had, who the lucky (or unlucky, if you asked Kurapika) match was.


	3. The Match

“I’m very happy to be here,” Kurapika lied smoothly as he shook Connor’s hand, while doing his best to not allow his native accent to show. He could already feel a headache forming as he tried to remember where the cameras were, where he was supposed to be looking, and what he should be saying. It was all a little overwhelming.

Connor thankfully directed him to a sofa and Kurapika sat down across from the host. Lucilfer was already there, having just finished his own interview with Connor before the commercial break. Said interview had mostly consisted of Lucilfer bemoaning the fact that Kurapika, despite being disgustingly rich, unfairly good-looking and stupidly smart, was still single. Connor wholeheartedly agreed that it was a fucking crime and should be remedied as soon as possible.

Okay, Kurapika was generously paraphrasing. It hadn’t quite been that bad, but it had still been a very embarrassing experience for him. Luckily, his poker face hadn’t been tested as he hadn’t made his appearance on the show until this moment.

After exchanging a few words with Kurapika and Lucilfer, Connor finally got down to business. “Are you ready to find your perfect match, Mr Kurta?”

No. Kurapika’s smile was so tight that it actually hurt his face. Lucilfer subtly nudged him in the arm with his elbow. “I’m very curious, Riley,” he said obediently.

Stage hands wheeled a flatscreen out onto the stage, positioning it where the studio audience could see it clearly. Kurapika felt butterflies flutter in the pit of his stomach as the screen lit up with the logo for the Cupid’s Arrow website, a red heart with an arrow through it.

“Maybe it’ll be one of the lovely ladies in the audience here,” Connor said brightly. Cheers followed his comment. Kurapika felt like he might be sick.

The logo was replaced with an image that Kurapika was very familiar with, and some of the butterflies died a quiet, tragic death. A pair of surprisingly realistic eyes stared out of the television screen. If not for their inhuman red colour, they could have belonged to anyone of Kurapika’s ethnicity. The eyes floated on a background that looked black, but actually had subtle swirls of very dark red through it. Kurapika had created that image to represent Cupid because it was easier on his eyes. He’d learned early on that focusing on a bright screen for long periods of time would cause him to develop migraines.

This was the ‘face’ of the AI that Kurapika had created, a sight that few outside of the company ever saw.

“Good evening, Kurapika.”

Cupid’s voice was masculine and flat. Kurapika had put little effort into that part of the AI’s programming, as it was not important. Usually, only Kurapika and those working directly with the AI ever interacted with it in this way. Suddenly, Kurapika felt quite exposed, as if someone had cut into his chest to exhibit his organs.

Still, Kurapika had never ignored the AI when it greeted him, and he felt it would be rude to do so now, even if it felt a bit silly to be concerned over the (non-existent) feelings of a computer program.

“Good evening, Cupid,” Kurapika said. His hands felt clammy on his lap.

“This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for—Mr Kurta more than anyone else, I’m sure,” Connor said with a charming smile. “Mr Kurta, why don’t you ask Cupid to share its news with us?”

Kurapika swallowed. He would have preferred that anyone else do that—would his voice even work?

“Kurapika?” Lucilfer inquired after a moment of awkward silence passed.

“Uh.” Kurapika cleared his throat, feeling the severity of Lucilfer’s stare on him. Once again, he was reminded that the company’s image was at stake. Lucilfer had made it clear that Kurapika’s image was the company’s image and he’d better never forget it. If he looked like a fool, then the company looked like a fool—and right now, Kurapika was a tongue-tied fool.

Thankfully, Connor came to his rescue. “You know what? I wouldn’t mind doing the honours, if you don’t mind, Mr Kurta. This feels like a once-in-a-lifetime chance I just can’t pass up.”

His smile was eager, though Kurapika was sure it was fake. Kurapika nodded in agreement and Connor turned back to the television screen.

“Cupid, we’re all drowning in suspense here, so can you put us all out of our misery and show us Mr Kurta’s perfect match, please?” he asked.

“Certainly, Riley.”

Cupid’s screen went entirely black. Kurapika sent one last prayer out into the ether that no match had been found. He knew it was futile however. If Cupid had found no match, it would have stated that in response to Connor’s query. Cupid had found a match—it was now compiling the data to present on the screen.

Seconds that felt like forever to Kurapika passed until a new image replaced the black. Kurapika was focusing so hard on the pixels that it took his brain a little time to actually compute what he was seeing.

A handsome black-haired man stared out of the screen at him. He wore a cocky, good-natured grin that shone out of a tanned, strong-boned face. A truncated profile appeared next to the photo, text spelling out the man’s basic details. His name, age, country, and his employment details. Not his address or birthday of course. Cupid had been instructed to redact personal or sensitive information from the public profile. Kurapika would have access to the full profile, but he’d have to look over that later on his own personal computer.

There was a moment of silence as everyone took in the information. Kurapika began to feel cold as he realised that the match must have come as a great surprise to many. Even Kurapika hadn’t thought through the implications of being matched with a man, when the public had very likely been expecting him to be matched with a woman. Kurapika had never publicly stated his sexuality—it had never before been relevant since he’d never entered into a relationship while in the public eye.

But Cupid had no regard for Kurapika’s public image, and had given its honest match, inconvenience be damned.

Connor was the first to recover.

“Doctor Leorio Paladiknight,” he read. Kurapika suspected that he was butchering the pronunciation. Kurapika wasn’t sure he could do any better.

Lucilfer was as stiff as a statue beside Kurapika, tension in every line of his tailored suit. No doubt he hadn’t expected Cupid to bring up a male match, either. Kurapika felt slightly pleased about having caught him on the back foot. That was a very rare occurrence. It served Lucilfer right for using Kurapika in this scheme.

“That’s one lucky doctor, if I do say so myself,” Connor beamed. “Congratulations, Mr Kurta.”

Kurapika could only sit and stare, the enormity of what Cupid had just dropped onto his head finally beginning to dawn on him. This was just the beginning of his nightmare.

—And this poor doctor, going about his life, completely ignorant of the avalanche of publicity that was about to sweep him off his feet. Kurapika very much pitied him.


	4. The News

Leorio was working a double shift to pay a colleague back for taking one of his shifts earlier in the month, so Gon spent the night a Pietro’s, who dropped him off at school the next morning. Leorio turned up at Pietro’s door at 10am, exhaustion hanging over him like a dark rain cloud.

“You look like shit,” Pietro said by way of greeting when he opened the door at Leorio’s knock. “Rough night?”

“Just the usual, actually,” Leorio sighed. “How was Gon? Did he behave?”

“Yeah, the kid was great.” Pietro hovered in the door, a strange look on his face. Leorio wondered if he had some blood on his face or something. He’d washed up before leaving the hospital, but he supposed he could have missed a spot.

It wasn’t as if Pietro could judge him, anyway. The painter had a smudge of yellow paint on his cheek that Leorio couldn’t be bothered to comment on. It would have been unusual for there to not be some speck of paint on his friend’s person somewhere.

“The usual?” Pietro inquired.

“Ah, yeah, the usual. You know, drunk idiots, heart attacks… car crashes. The usual,” Leorio said helplessly. He tried not to subject his friends to the less savoury aspects of his job. It was either painfully mundane or far, far too exciting. Last night he’d had to deal with the unfortunate consequences of a drunk driver hitting a pedestrian. It had not been pretty, but Leorio was trying to put it out of his mind. Both driver and pedestrian were alive, thankfully. In Leorio’s opinion, that was a great outcome.

Come in and have a coffee. I don’t like the idea of you driving home without a strong dose of caffeine in your system. You might end up being a patient in your own emergency department,” Pietro offered, only half-joking.

Leorio had only come to pick up Gon’s things, but he nodded in tired agreement.

“Yeah, coffee sounds good,” he admitted. “It’s not like I need to be home for anything.” If he crashed on Pietro’s sofa, and went directly from Pietro’s apartment to Gon’s school to pick him up at three, that was no bother.

Pietro brewed the coffee as Leorio parked himself on Pietro’s comfortable sofa. Pietro shook him awake several minutes later to hand him the mug, before seating himself beside Leorio.

“Leorio?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you checked your phone anytime this morning?”

“No. Did you text me or something?” Leorio inquired. There was something off about Pietro’s tone and that made him feel uneasy. Had things not gone smoothly with Gon?

“No, but I think you should check it,” Pietro said, sounding a little uneasy himself.

“What’s going on?” Leorio inquired, trying to shake himself awake. “Did something happen?”

“Well, sort of.”

Leorio’s temper began to flare up. Pietro was avoiding something, and that was starting to get on Leorio’s nerves. They were best friends, they could talk about anything. Why the pussyfooting around, then?

“Sort of, what?” Leorio snapped irritably. “Is there something I need to know—and don’t you dare say ‘sort of!’”

Pietro looked sheepish. “Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” he pleaded. “You remember that dating site, Cupid’s Arrow?”

“Yeah. Gon was asking about it yesterday. They had some publicity thing last night. He wanted to watch it, but I told him he couldn’t. I hope he didn’t badger you about it too much.”

“Well, he did, but…”

Leorio sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa. “Tell me you didn’t let him stay up.”

“Of course not. I agreed to follow your rules. Consistency and stability and all that,” Pietro said, stiffening defensively. “I told him I’d watch the show instead, and tell him what happened in the morning.”

“And?” Leorio inquired, now thoroughly confused. He could tell that Pietro was doing a rather splendid job of tap dancing around something, but he couldn’t for the life of him guess what that something was.

“So, they were going to announce that Kurta guy’s perfect match, right?” Pietro continued.

“Uh-huh. Gon told me that,” Leorio agreed.

“The match was you, Leorio.”

Leorio briefly wondered if he’d misheard Pietro, or if he’d actually fallen asleep and was dreaming.

“Me?” he asked.

Pietro gave him a withering look. “I just can’t believe you haven’t heard about it already. It’s all over the news and the internet. Aren’t they blowing up your phone yet?”

“We’re not allowed to have our phones with us while on shift,” Leorio pointed out, “and I forgot to check it when I finished. I’m tired, okay?”

Too tired to deal with this.

“God, you need a manager,” Pietro said with a chuckle as Leorio buried his face in his hands, his coffee sitting forgotten on the table in front of him.

“What does this mean?” Leorio still hadn’t been able to put the pieces together. What did being Kurta’s match mean for him, personally?

Pietro shrugged. “Guess that means you’ll be going out on a date with the pretty boy sometime soon,” he said. “Lucky bastard. I knew that guy was gay.”

Kurta. Dating Kurta. The concept definitely didn’t compute in Leorio’s brain.

“Does Gon already know about this?” Leorio asked.

“Yeah.”

At Leorio’s disapproving glare, Pietro shrugged. “What did you want me to do, Leo? Not tell him? He would have found out as soon as he got to school, anyway.”

Leorio nodded wearily, conceding the point.

“And how did he take it?”

“He’s fucking ecstatic. I think he’s got your first three dates already planned,” Pietro said with an evil chuckle.

“Oh, God. Just wake me when this has all blown over,” Leorio complained.

Pietro patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t bother going home,” he suggested. “It wouldn’t surprise me if there are reporters already lurking around your neighbourhood. Stay here and get some sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to pick Gon up—and can I check your phone?”

“Yeah, do whatever you want. It’s in my briefcase.”

Pietro stood up and Leorio repositioned himself to take over the sofa entirely, though he was too tall to fit. He was so tired that he could have slept on a bed of nails without complaint. That coffee hadn’t helped in the slightest—Leorio wouldn’t be surprised if Pietro had served him decaf.

As he drifted off, he heard Pietro mutter, “Shit, 14 missed calls and 20 messages?”

Leorio spent a few blissful hours in dreamland before he was awakened by Pietro. After consuming some microwaved noodles, Leorio left to pick Gon up from school. He usually looked forward to the task, but today he was dreading it.

“Leorio! Leorio!”

Gon waved enthusiastically to him as soon as he saw the car. He scrambled into the passenger seat, throwing his backpack onto the backseat of the car to rest alongside the clothes Leorio had picked up from Pietro’s.

“How was your day?” Leorio inquired, hoping that Gon wouldn’t mention the Cupid’s Arrow thing. Of course, Gon wasn’t distracted in the slightest.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” he asked eagerly. “You’re going to go on a date with Kurapika Kurta!”

“Gon, nothing’s been decided yet,” Leorio informed him as he fixed his eyes on the road. Gon kept bouncing around in the seat, and Leorio found it irritating.

“What’s to decide? Of course you’re going to be going,” Gon said, as if that were a foregone conclusion. Come to think of it, Pietro had seemed to share the same opinion.

“I haven’t agreed to that yet,” Leorio said cautiously. He hadn’t even returned any of the calls on his phone yet. In fact, he’d switched the damn thing off. He’d deal with it when he and Gon were home and settled.

“Why would you want to say no?” Gon sounded genuinely confused. “He’s pretty, and rich. You should give it a chance, Leorio. Maybe he’s really nice, too.”

Nice? ‘Nice’ wasn’t an adjective that fit with the stiff, polite image of Kurapika Kurta in Leorio’s mind. How the hell could Leorio even begin to relate to someone like him? Did they have a single thing in common? Did they even exist on the same plane of reality?

Luckily for Leorio, Pietro’s prediction about reporters lurking in his neighbourhood wasn’t accurate, though Leorio did catch himself glancing at bushes suspiciously as he drove by—just in case. His and Gon’s normal afternoon routine continued unobstructed. Gon washed up and made a start on his homework while Leorio started dinner. Despite Gon’s pleading, he waited until the kid had gone to bed before finally turning his phone back on.

Too bad if whoever was trying to call him was asleep. Leorio certainly wouldn’t mind if they didn’t answer his call, and if he woke them up? He didn’t particularly care about that either. He had a job, and a kid. They were gonna have to work around that, and the sooner they accepted that, the better.

Hell, maybe they’d tell him that it was all a big joke, and Kurta had no intention of ever meeting him. One could hope.

Leorio went through the list of missed calls on his phone and the text messages. More than a few were from reporters, and Leorio deleted those immediately. He noticed that one number had called him several times throughout the morning, and had left a text. The text confirmed that the number belonged to a representative from Cupid’s Arrow who was trying to reach him.

Leorio took a sip from his hot chocolate, a weekly staple of his and Gon’s routine for the last year, before tapping on the number to return the call.


	5. The Profile

Kurapika lounged on his sofa, feet propped up on an ottoman and laptop on his lap as he logged in to access Cupid’s database. City lights glittered through the large windows of the penthouse apartment, providing the only illumination in the room other than Kurapika’s laptop.

Finding Paladiknight’s profile ought to be a simple task.

Except… it wasn’t.

Kurapika glared at the glowing screen. ‘Access Denied’? What the fuck?

Kurapika set his laptop aside and headed into his bedroom to get his phone. He’d left it on the nightstand, charger plugged in, as soon as he’d gotten home from Connor’s show. His colleague picked up on the third ring.

“It’s 3am, you pint-sized workaholic. Don’t you have a life?”

“My ‘life’ is splashed all over the tabloids and internet,” Kurapika snapped, still sore from all of the social media posts he’d skimmed through regarding his ‘perfect match’. He really should’ve known better than to look. “Why can’t I access Paladiknight’s profile, Illumi?”

The response was curt. “Orders from on high, Kurapika. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But that’s not fair!” Kurapika protested.

“Take it up with the devil.” Illumi’s yawn was audible over the phone line. “Now, go back to bed. I’m sure you’ll need your beauty sleep before you meet the doctor.”

Illumi hung up. Kurapika fumed. He slammed his phone down on the nightstand before stalking back down the hall to the living room.

Since he lived alone, he couldn’t even vent his frustration to anyone. Illumi clearly wasn’t in a mood to entertain his complaints. Kurapika flopped back down on the sofa, his blood boiling.

Who the hell thought that it was necessary to bar him from looking at Paladiknight’s profile? Where was the harm? Shouldn’t he know something about the man he’d be meeting—and dating, if everything went to plan?

If Kurapika had access to Paladiknight’s profile, he’d know how he was supposed to act, he’d have some direction in regard to topics of conversation—he’d actually have a remote chance of not fucking everything up within the first minute.

Kurapika tried one more time to log in and access the profile, but the result was the same. ‘Access Denied’. He considered trying to log in on Illumi’s account, but that would really be unethical of him. The consequences would be unpleasant, as well. Not just for his relationship with Illumi, but for his relationship with the committee too. They’d certainly take him to task over it, and that was a scenario Kurapika could all-too-readily imagine—and had no desire to experience. It would be even worse than being reprimanded by a teacher in front of the entire class. Worse because the stakes were so much higher. Kurapika might not like the committee members (and most of the other employees of the company who handled the business aspects) but he wanted the committee to at least think of him as not incompetent.

Kurapika abandoned his sofa briefly to make himself a cup of tea. By the time he returned, he felt a little less heated about the whole thing.

So, the committee was still playing its stupid game with him, and Kurapika had no choice but to go along with it. Well, the joke would be on them. Without that information, there was no way this scheme would work.

Illumi had given him one good piece of advice, however. Kurapika needed to sleep, but he felt too keyed up to rest. He settled himself lengthwise on the sofa with his laptop on his lap, then activated Cupid’s speech interface.

Cupid’s greeting was predictable, as most things about the AI were.

“Good evening, Kurapika.”

“Evening, Cupid.” Kurapika smiled thinly. “Don’t suppose you could show me Doctor Paladiknight’s full profile?” It was worth a try, right?

“I’m sorry. That information has been deleted from my system,” Cupid said, sounding not in the least regretful. Its tone was as bland as ever, a sharp contrast to its very human eyes. Any intent or emotion Kurapika thought he saw in them was an illusion. Just pixels on a screen, manipulated by Cupid like legos, building whatever image the AI deemed most appropriate.

Some of the programmers had told Kurapika that they thought the eyes were creepy, but Kurapika didn’t share that view. The human-like appearance of Cupid’s eyes was reassuring to him. He didn’t mind if it felt like Cupid was watching him. Wasn’t that the entire point? Those programmers really needed to just get over it, in Kurapika’s opinion. If they watched too many science fiction movies about evil AIs taking over the world, then that wasn’t Kurapika’s problem at all.

“What? Someone deleted it?” Kurapika demanded.

“Yes,” Cupid agreed. It didn’t sound as if it were bothered that someone had rummaged around in its innards and removed something without its permission, but Kurapika certainly was bothered. It was rather like he’d woken up in a motel room bathtub missing a kidney.

Kurapika rubbed his eyes and reminded himself firmly that it was just data. He himself did the same thing to Cupid every day. Yet it felt different—different because Kurapika, Cupid’s creator, had no knowledge or say in it.

So, the committee really didn’t trust him. They’d probably guessed that he would try to log in under someone else’s account and access the profile that way.

“Bastards!” Kurapika muttered.

“Excuse me?” Cupid inquired. It sounded more like it was reprimanding Kurapika for his language than asking for clarification.

“Sorry.” Kurapika ran his hand through his messy hair as Cupid’s eyes floated patiently. “Let’s play chess,” he decided. That had been his original reason for loading Cupid, before he’d gotten sidetracked. Even if being trounced by an AI was humiliating, the games would give Kurapika’s mind something to engage in, something other than his anxieties. After that, he’d be able to sleep.

“Certainly, Kurapika.”

The chess board appeared, black and white pieces lined up, prepared for war. A small timer also appeared at the top right corner of the screen, seconds starting to tick down. There was no need to decide who played which colour. Kurapika always played white, and Cupid certainly wasn’t going to argue with him about it. It was all the same to the AI.

Dealing with someone who never tried to argue with you was nice, Kurapika decided as he moved his first pawn. Arguing with Cupid was virtually impossible. Cupid dealt in absolutes. Everything was ‘yes’ or ‘no’. No ‘maybes’, no debates, no grey areas—and no compromises.

Some would say that Kurapika was much the same—which was funny, given how fluid his sexuality was.

What would Doctor Paladiknight make of that? Had Cupid’s match truly been the right one? If the committee had deleted Doctor Paladiknight’s profile, could they have meddled with Cupid’s algorithms as well? Or maybe the doctor’s profile itself, in order to better fit Kurapika’s own?

Cupid made its move, and Kurapika frowned. With that move, Cupid could take the game in a few different directions and Kurapika wasn’t sure what the AI had planned. Maybe the AI didn’t even have a plan, and was simply responding to each of Kurapika’s moves spontaneously. Kurapika had given the AI a great amount of freedom in how it chose to process information, along with the ability to make alterations to its own programming. Unless he dug into the code, Kurapika wouldn’t be able to tell which processes the AI was making use of.

Not that it really mattered. Kurapika, chess champion of his high school club, was going to get his ass handed to him by his own AI.

If God was killed by the humans he’d created, was that truly a defeat, though? Or was it a sign that his creations were truly superior to him? In creating beings superior to himself, hadn’t God truly won?

Or maybe Kurapika was overthinking everything and he should just focus on the damn chess game. Else-wise, he’d be still up at 6am, irrelevant questions driving him to the brink of insanity. He needed at least a good hour or two of sleep before he went into work the next day. Poor Melody would bear the brunt of his irritability, and Kurapika would feel terrible about that--later, when he was over being irritable.


	6. The Contract

The building that housed the offices of Cupid’s Arrow was impressive. Forty floors or so of shining glass windows dwarfed Leorio as he entered through the sliding doors. Though it was a Saturday, Gon wasn’t with Leorio. Instead, he was attending soccer practice, much to his disappointment. Leorio was personally glad that Gon wouldn’t be witness to this. He had no idea how things would pan out, and if it went badly, it was better that Gon not bear witness.

“Doctor Paladiknight.”

A woman with straight, honey-blonde hair stepped into hispath. She was quite tall and gorgeous in a way that made Leorio feel inferior. Her business suit was immaculate, and tailored to accentuate her figure. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar.

She cleared up his confusion immediately. “I’m Pakunoda. We spoke on the phone yesterday evening. Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

“Uh, sure. It’s nice to meet you,” Leorio said.

“Please follow me. Mr Lucilfer is eager to meet you.” Pakunoda turned and headed for the elevator, and Leorio followed on her heels.

“I thought I’d be meeting Mr Kurta. Sorry, but who is Mr Lucilfer?” Leorio inquired.

“Mr Lucilfer is the CEO of Lucilfer Inc, and one of the stockholders of Cupid’s Arrow,” Pakunoda explained. “He’s also the head of marketing for Cupid’s Arrow.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Leorio felt extremely out-of-place in this modern, orderly business space. Even his best suit felt cheap in comparison to those Leorio saw around him.

Pakunoda showed Leorio to what she informed him was Mr Lucilfer’s office on the 30th floor. Mr Lucilfer’s appearance and manner offered no surprises. He was well-dressed and groomed, with black hair brushed back from his forehead. His masculinity was offset a little by the emerald earrings he wore, but Leorio felt that the effect was more of a positive than a negative. His handshake was firm.

“Please take a seat, Mr Paladiknight.”

Leorio frowned a little, noting that Lucilfer hadn’t used his title. Most did use it, if they were aware of it. It wasn’t a big deal, though, so Leorio did his best to smile amicably before taking the offered armchair.

“Can I get you anything to drink? There’s tea, coffee, or wine available, if you’re so inclined.”

Wine? It was way too early for that.

“I’m good, thanks,” Leorio said.

Lucilfer seated himself in the armchair across from Leorio and crossed one knee over the other.

“I’m sure that you’re feeling a little overwhelmed right now,” he began, “so I’ll try to lay out how this will go for you, though, naturally, we’ll deviate when necessary. Kurapika being the force of nature he is, there’s no guarantee he’ll make this easy.”

Leorio blinked. That was an odd thing to say. Nonetheless, he decided not to interrupt. He’d sure like to have some idea of what to expect from today.

“You’ll have the opportunity to read through the contract today, and hopefully sign it if it meets your approval.”

Contract?

“Then we’ll introduce you to Kurapika and discuss your first public outing,” Lucilfer finished.

“Contract?” Leorio asked. “There’s a contract?”

“Yes, of course. It’s nothing you need to be concerned about, however. It just covers a few basics. Naturally, Kurapika’s personal safety is a concern for us, and there’s the matter of financial compensation—“

Leorio’s ears pricked at the word ‘financial’. “Excuse me, financial compensation?” he repeated.

Lucilfer looked at him as if Leorio was asking if dogs had four legs. “Of course,” he said. “We must compensate you for your time.”

Was this... a job? Like, he’d be dating Kurta—and getting paid for it? That made Leorio sound like an escort or prostitute. Not that he’d even been thinking of sleeping with Kurta. God, what if that was in the contract? Like, was there a minimum amount of times he’d have to have sex with Kurta? No way would Leorio sign anything like that.

Lucilfer must have seen the apprehension in Leorio’s face because he smiled charmingly. “Like I said, it’s nothing to worry about. It basically covers the public appearances you’ll make with Kurapika, and a non-disclosure clause. We can’t have Kurapika’s private life and opinions splashed all over the gossip columns. Reporters will certainly be hounding you for such details, and we must protect Kurapika’s image.”

Image, Leorio realised. It was all about image. They wanted to protect their golden boy’s perfect, airbrushed image. Oddly, that was a relief. It was a mindset that Leorio could understand.

However, it was also a mindset that might well stifle any chance of a lasting relationship between himself and Kurta.

This is a publicity stunt, Leorio reminded himself. Don’t know why they picked you for it, but no one seriously expects it to last... right?

“Okay,” Leorio agreed. “I get where you’re coming from. Not that I’d ever rat on Mr Kurta to the gossip magazines anyway. That’d be a shitty thing to do to someone.”

Lucilfer smiled that charming smile again. “I’m glad you understand, Mr Paladiknight. I feel like we’re off to an excellent start.”

The contract was, as Lucilfer had claimed, mostly about protecting Kurta and the interests of the Cupid’s Arrow company. The terms were simple. Leorio agreed to date Kurta for at least a year, making a minimum of two public appearances a month with him. A public appearance could be anything from dinner at a restaurant to attending an international awards show. Leorio felt he could manage that. He’d be handsomely compensated for the trouble as he’d receive a monthly sum of money that left his head spinning.

“We may be able to cover certain expenses like travel and accommodation, particularly for overseas travel,” Lucilfer had explained. “That will be in relation to official events, however, events that Kurapika would have attended anyway, even if he were not dating you. You’ll be expected to cover your personal care and items, such as clothing. We also won’t cover any gifts you may wish to purchase for Kurapika. That will come out of your own pocket.”

What Leorio gleaned from all that was that the company would cover him for all the official appearances that were directly related to promoting Cupid’s Arrow. He’d be Kurta’s ‘+1’. But the company wouldn’t cover anything Leorio and Kurta did that was on their own initiative. Leorio thought that was fair enough.

Leorio signed the contract, but he did feel a little uneasy about doing so. While there was nothing in there that struck him as being objectionable, he felt like he was somehow betraying Kurta.

Worse, Lucilfer had told him not to mention the contract to Kurta. He’d given no reason for that, and that didn’t sit right with Leorio.

Surely, though, Kurta understood the business world? Surely he realised this was primarily a publicity stunt? Maybe he’d be just as callous about it as Lucilfer appeared to be. That would be consistent with what little Leorio knew of him.

Nonetheless, it was clear that Leorio wouldn’t be getting within shouting distance of Kurta unless he signed the contract.

Once he did, Lucilfer called in a new face—a very beautiful red-haired woman with a kind smile. She was the first person Leorio had met at Cupid’s Arrow who looked genuinely happy to meet him.

“This is Melody,” Lucilfer introduced. “She is Kurapika’s personal assistant and manages all of his public appearances. You’ll be seeing quite a lot of her in the coming months.”

Thank God she seemed so nice.

“It’s nice to meet you, Melody,” Leorio said.

Melody beamed at him. “You must be eager to meet Kurapika. I’ll take you to him.”

A knot of unease formed in Leorio’s gut, an uncomfortable weight that made breathing difficult.

Don’t be stupid, Leorio chastised himself. It was just a first meeting. They’d say hello, chat a bit, no pressure. Besides, even if he and Kurta didn’t get along, well, what did that matter?

It’s a publicity stunt, Leorio reminded himself again. Put on your game face and play nice for the cameras. Beyond that, no one cares what you do. It’s all about appearances.

—And appearance was clearly something that Kurta had down pat. He was always perfectly put-together. Even when his blond hair was at the mercy of the wind, it still somehow looked stylish.

Not that Leorio had ever payed that much attention to Kurta’s public appearances—the guy was just hard to miss. Eye-catching. Pietro had once made an analogy about Kurta being pink. Leorio had no idea what he meant by that.

The atmosphere inside the elevator was much more comfortable on the brief ride down than it had been on the ride up. Melody did not seem averse to chatting with Leorio. In fact, it was as if he were her new best friend. She informed him that the building they were in was shared by Lucilfer’s company and Cupid’s Arrow, along with a lawyers’ firm.

“Kurapika’s actually very nervous about meeting you,” Melody confided. “He will probably act quite stiff and formal, which you might find to be a little off-putting. Give him some time. He’ll relax after a while if you don’t pressure him.”

Her smile was encouraging.

“How long have you known him?” Leorio questioned.

“Over a year now.” Melody’s smile softened into fondness. “He’s a bit prickly, but once you get to know him, he’s quite funny and sweet.”

Leorio wondered if Cupid had gotten it wrong. Maybe Melody would have been a better match for Kurta.


	7. The Meeting

Kurapika adjusted his tie for what felt like the thousandth time since Melody had left the room. Her words of reassurance had done nothing to ease his nerves. He was probably going to leave permanent marks in the carpet in front of the window with all of his pacing. His tea sat on the shiny surface of the table, untouched.

He’d come in an hour late, hoping to avoid a lecture from Lucilfer—and it served the devil right anyway for denying him access to his own system. His programmers weren’t inconvenienced by his tardiness—in fact, Illumi had kicked him out after he’d gotten into an argument with Milluki about a security patch. Kurapika knew it was largely his own fault, now that he’d had time to think about it. Telling Milluki that he’d only gotten the job because he was Illumi’s brother had been taking it a step too far—and that was untrue, anyway. Milluki could be lazy, and he spent far too much time playing video games instead of working, but he was an excellent programmer and an asset in an emergency.

Kurapika still felt sore about the whole thing, though. Getting kicked out by someone who was technically supposed to be under him in the workplace hierarchy had stung. No one had spoken up in his defence, though, so Kurapika could safely assume that Illumi had the backing of everyone else in the room.

Melody’s sweet voice floated through the open doorway. “This way, Doctor paladiknight.”

Kurapika spun on his polished black heel, his face pale and panicked. Hastily, he tried to compose himself. Melody entered first, her eyes immediately finding Kurapika at the window. She gave him a small nod.

The man who stepped in behind Melody was taller than Kurapika had expected. Dark honey eyes fixed on Kurapika’s face. The man stopped just inside the doorway, seemingly not sure if he should go any further.

That was a relief. Kurapika wouldn’t have to put up with someone who was overly-enthusiastic and grabby. He hated it when people came right up into his space and crowded him without even an introduction first. It made him feel cornered, as if the person were trying to dominate or overwhelm him. Kurapika always responded badly to that.

Lucilfer had made it a habit to get into his personal space, though Lucilfer tended to be more subtle and selective about it, only doing so when he was actually trying to bully Kurapika. It was unquestionably a conscious tactic on Lucilfer’s part and it pissed Kurapika off more than anything else Lucilfer did.

Doctor Paladiknight seemed larger and more intimidating than his profile had indicated. Yet he also looked nervous. Good. He should be nervous. It wouldn’t be fair if Kurapika were the only one who was nervous.

Not that he’d ever admit to anyone that he was nervous.

“Doctor Paladiknight, this is Kurapika,” Melody said, coming forward to tug Kurapika gently away from the window by his arm. Kurapika allowed her to bring him forward while doing his best not to look as if he were reluctant.

It’s just like an interview, he told himself—except there was no script and they hadn’t discussed anything beforehand.

“Call me Leorio,” the doctor said. “That goes for you too, Melody.” His smile was warm, rather like the sun at Kurapika’s back.

Kurapika gave a stiff bow, hands by his side. It wasn’t custom in Saherta, but Kurapika found that it was a handy way to dissuade people from shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you… Leorio,” he said. He’d tried to enunciate his words carefully, but he’d stumbled over the name. The syllables didn’t trip off his tongue right. He’d have to practice that.

Luckily, the doctor didn’t seem to mind. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, short and sticking up in a way that made Kurapika wonder if that gesture was a regular habit of the doctor’s.

“Both of you sit down,” Melody urged, laughter haunting her voice, though she was too nice to let it out. Kurapika felt like he was seven years old and being introduced to his new class. The foreign kid with the weird accent and cat’s eyes. The teacher had tried to make him out to be just another normal kid, but his new classmates weren’t stupid. Kurapika wasn’t like them. He didn’t fit in.

Old anxieties, Kurapika thought as he took his former chair. He wasn’t a child anymore.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Doctor?” Melody inquired.

“Leorio, and no thanks,” the doctor replied.

“All right. Just ask Kurapika to call me if you change your mind. I won’t be far away. And, Kurapika, Hisoka wants to meet with you later.”

“Why?” Kurapika snapped, his tone waspish. He couldn’t help it. The reaction was visceral.

As Leorio’s eyes widened in surprise, Melody answered. “I think it’s about the charity ball next week. Are you avoiding him, Kurapika?” Melody fixed him with a reprimanding stare.

“No,” Kurapika said, shoulders tense with defensiveness. “I’m just busy. Besides, what’s to discuss? I’ll be wearing a suit and Hisoka already has my measurements.”

Privately, Kurapika didn’t even see the need for Hisoka’s services—he was perfectly capable of dressing himself—but the company insisted. Since they were paying for it, Kurapika felt that he had very little room to argue his case.

Leorio politely remained silent, though Kurapika suspected that he was taking all this information in.

“If he wants to meet with you, then he must have something to discuss—so meet with him, Kurapika.” Melody paused. “Unless you have a very good reason for not wanting to meet with him?”

Melody waited, her silence inviting a response. That was kind of her to give him an out, but Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to be honest about his misgivings regarding Hisoka. The guy gave off creepy vibes, yet he hadn’t actually done anything to warrant action. He was just… slimy.

Why Cupid had matched him with Illumi was anyone’s guess. Even Kurapika couldn’t untangle that not in a way that made any sense at all.

Maybe he didn’t even want to know why Cupid had matched them. Illumi gave off certain vibes that felt a bit off to Kurapika as well, but in Illumi’s case, it was very subtle.

‘Subtle’ was not a word that could ever be used to describe Hisoka.

“No reason,” Kurapika said, deflated.

“Good. Monday morning, then?” Melody asked.

“Yes.”

Melody left, leaving Kurapika and Leorio alone for the first time. Kurapika picked up his tea and took a sip. He winced. It had cooled considerably. Still, he swallowed.

Now what was he supposed to say?


	8. The Meeting, Part 2

Kurta very much reminded Leorio of a preppy private school boy. Even the way he held his teacup was kind of preppy, with the way his pinky finger stuck out. His blond hair shone in the sunlight coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a spot of colour in the ruby earring visible on one ear. Leorio couldn’t tell if both were pierced since Kurta’s hair covered his other ear. It brushed his collar in delicate tendrils. Kurta’s suit, like that of everyone else Leorio had met this morning, was perfectly tailored to fit his slim frame, black with a dark blue tie. Once again, Leorio felt that his own navy-blue suit was cheap in comparison.

Everything about Kurta looked pale and delicate—everything except his eyes. His eyes were the colour of steel.

“I should get something cleared up right away,” Leorio began.

Was it his imagination, or did something flash in Kurta’s eyes? Surprise? Fear? Leorio rushed on, determined to make his point. It really was important.

“I’ve got a kid,” he said. “A boy. He’s twelve. I’m not about to do anything to upset his life, all right?”

Kurta’s expression morphed into open surprise. He set his teacup down.

“Oh,” he said. “I was unaware of that. I can certainly understand your concerns.”

He really did look thrown, and Leorio wondered if he’d made a mistake by bringing Gon up so soon. Still, he had no regrets.

“Good,” Leorio said, perhaps a little more forcefully than he needed to. Kurta’s eyes dropped to his teacup, pink lips pressed together.

“I’m guessing you don’t have kids?” Leorio inquired. Best to make sure.

Kurta’s lips quirked up in one corner. “No,” he said. “None that I am aware of.”

His smile seemed forced to Leorio. Was that… a joke? Was Leorio supposed to laugh? He had no idea. An awkward silence filled the room. Leorio searched for something to fill it. Talking shouldn’t be this hard. If Kurta was supposedly his perfect match, shouldn’t this feel more natural and easy?

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” he settled on.

“Hmm?” Kurta blinked in confusion.

“That we live in the same city,” Leorio said. “Isn’t that a bit coincidental?”

Kurta leaned forward a little in his chair. “Not necessarily,” he said. “There are over 8 million people living in this city. Also, location is one of the parameters that Cupid takes into account. It would be a little awkward if someone without the means to travel was matched with someone from a foreign country whom they might never be able to meet in person, right?”

Kurta’s voice had taken on more animation. It was really kind of endearing that he seemed so excited about his pet project.

Did he… actually have more to do with Cupid’s creation than Leorio had assumed? Maybe?

“I tried to include as many factors as possible, but teaching Cupid how to measure things that can’t necessarily be measured in numbers wasn’t easy,” Kurta continued. “Like, for example, how far is too far? If someone has the means to travel internationally, then maybe they could find a better match overseas? But, then if the other person doesn’t have those means, does that create an imbalance in the relationship?”

Leorio sat back, an amused smile tilting his lips up. He tried to be subtle about it, but he just wasn’t a very subtle guy when it came to that sort of thing. Thankfully, Kurta was too caught up in his speech to take notice (or offence) at Leorio’s amusement.

“Language is important, too,” Kurta went on. “It’s hard for Cupid to glean how good someone is with any given language based solely on the profile questions.”

“Wow,” Leorio said, genuinely impressed. “You really tried to think of everything, didn’t you?”

“Some people might say it’s a little too much,” Kurta admitted. “One of the most common complaints customer service gets is that the profile questions are too numerous and irrelevant, but really, none of it is irrelevant.”

Kurta was definitely more chatty than Leorio had expected, at least when it came to the Cupid system. Leorio felt out of his depth though. He knew nothing about computers—and truthfully, he was more interested in Kurta himself than the program he wrote.

“How old were you when you created Cupid?” Leorio asked, hoping to draw Kurta in a new, more personal direction.

“Uh, eighteen, when I started it, I think,” Kurta said, his eyes clouding over with thought. “I was in my last year of high school and working toward college. It took about four years to finish—if you could ever really call such a project finished.”

“Sorry if this is rude, but how old are you now?” Leorio wondered.

“Twenty-five.” Kurta gave him a searching look, one that Leorio couldn’t read. Then he asked, “How old are you?” He cocked his head to the side curiously.

“Twenty-eight,” Leorio said. Just a bit older than Kurta.

Kurta’s eyes widened and he straightened. “But you have a twelve-year-old child. That would make you—“

Before Kurta could do the embarrassing maths, Leorio hurried to correct him.

“Gon is my foster son. I don’t have any biological children. God, I wasn’t _that_ irresponsible in high school.”

Kurta laughed, sounding relieved. I’m glad to hear that.”

Another silence fell. Leorio didn’t quite know where to go from here. It was odd. This felt like a rollercoaster, abrupt ups and downs and twists and turns. It was easy one minute, hard the next. Was this how first meetings (Leorio wasn’t going to call it a date because it definitely wasn’t) usually went?

“Is Gon your first foster child?” Kurta eventually inquired, his tone careful.

“Yeah. I’m looking into adopting him permanently,” Leorio said. “His father pops in and out of the picture, but Gon needs a lot more than that. He needs someone who’s always going to be there, not someone who just shows up when it’s convenient for them.” Leorio couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. He and Gon’s father definitely didn’t see eye-to-eye—and never would, until Ging stopped being so selfish and started putting his kid’s needs before his own desires.

“As a doctor, I suppose you’re in a good position to provide him with that,” Kurta guessed.

“Yeah, my job is pretty stable,” Leorio agreed.

“Will this… relationship be inconvenient for you?” Kurta questioned.

“I can make it work,” Leorio assured him. For the sum of money that Cupid’s Arrow had offered him, he could definitely make it work.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Kurta said, his voice quiet. “Cupid may have matched us, but you shouldn’t feel forced into this.” He looked down at his teacup again, a flush of colour on his cheeks. “It’s a choice.” He mumbled something else, but it was too low for Leorio to hear.

What? Was Kurta actually a bit freaked out by this?

“Look, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do. Believe me, if I didn’t want to do this, you’d all know about it,” Leorio said. “I did have reservations, but… I want to give it a go.”

Now that he’d signed the contract, he had no choice in that area, but he’d agreed not to mention the contract to Kurta, so he kept that to himself.

“I hope you don’t regret it,” Kurta said from beneath his bangs.

So did Leorio.


	9. The Meeting, Part 3

Predictably, Lucilfer couldn’t leave well enough alone. Not even twenty minutes after Melody had left, Lucilfer was imposing his presence on Kurapika. Apparently, he’d already met Doctor Paladiknight. Of course he’d already met Doctor Paladiknight. Yet another thing that was no surprise to Kurapika.

Lucilfer drew a chair up to the table, smiling cordially between the two already seated.

“You seem to be getting along well enough so far,” he observed. “Cupid might have been right after all.”

Kurapika’s chin dipped. “What do you want?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“To discuss your first public outing,” Lucilfer responded. “We need to manage this carefully. Nothing too intimate, yet enough to spark the media’s interest.”

Doctor Paladiknight—Leorio, Kurapika reminded himself; he needed to get used to the name—settled back in his chair, seemingly unbothered by Lucilfer’s intrusion.

He’d expected this too, Kurapika realised. So Leorio understood the nature of this as well. For reasons Kurapika couldn’t pin down, that made him feel depressed. As if he and Leorio were just actors playing roles. Kurapika could have been any pretty face—because it didn’t go any deeper than that.

Did he _want_ it to go deeper than that? Did he want this relationship to work out? To turn into a genuine, romantic relationship? Those were questions that Kurapika shied away from. He suspected that their answers would not be comfortable to swallow.

“Since you don’t like sports, Kurapika, I suppose that’s out. You stand out too much in that setting given that you barely participate.”

Kurapika glowered, but he held his tongue. He had an audience, after all. Besides, Lucilfer was right. Kurapika found it very difficult to show any enthusiasm for the games. He’d certainly stand out if he were the only person sitting in his seat and staying quiet while everyone else was on their feet, cheering their teams on and swearing at the referee.

Kurapika could certainly muster up more enthusiasm in a more personal setting with people he felt comfortable with, but he rarely found himself in that setting these days. Melody wasn’t into sports, so they’d usually watch television serials or movies instead.

“How about a shopping trip?” Lucilfer inquired.

Kurapika’s eyes widened. “If I see that made-up clown anywhere in the vicinity, I swear I’ll be gone,” he warned.

“Are you referring to Hisoka?” Lucilfer inquired, as if he just had to make sure.

“Of course,” Kurapika retorted. The last time he’d gone to the mall with Hisoka to buy clothes (and the only time), Hisoka had tried to dress him up in a school boy uniform. Kurapika had been out of there so fast he’d forgotten his bag. Luckily, the shop had returned it to him safely.

“I don’t know if I really want to meet this Hisoka person,” Leorio commented dryly.

“You don’t, but you probably will,” Kurapika said sourly.

“It’s a shame that you have such an aversion to him. He speaks very highly of you, angel,” Lucilfer commented.

Leorio’s eyes narrowed slightly at hearing the familiar nickname fall from Lucilfer’s lips. He looked speculatively between the two of them.

No, I don’t like him either, Kurapika wanted to say. But he owed Lucilfer far too much to say that out loud.

“Hisoka won’t be going. It will be you, Mr Paladiknight and perhaps Melody. I’m not sure if we ought to arrange a bodyguard or two as well.” Lucilfer frowned pensively.

“A bodyguard?” Leorio asked, a little anxiety seeping into his voice. “Is that really necessary?”

“They’ll only be there to keep anyone from hassling the two of you,” Lucilfer explained. “Some of Kurapika’s fans are a little… enthusiastic.”

Loud, invasive, pushy, handsy. Kurapika took a sip of his tea in order to avoid the instinctive need to wrap his arms protectively around himself. Appearances in areas like studios and events were fine, since entry was usually restricted, but anyone could come and go at the mall. Kurapika would have no buffer to keep him safe. Disguising himself as he often did wouldn’t be an option either. The whole point of the outing was to be seen and recognised.

“I think a bodyguard would be a good idea,” he said tentatively, before scoping out Leorio’s reaction to that from beneath his lashes. Would Leorio think that he was an entitled, spoiled little brat? Lucilfer had called him that once, after the incident with Hisoka at the mall. It still stung.

“Does that sound acceptable to you, Mr Paladiknight?” Lucilfer inquired.

“Sure. Whatever Mr Kurta wants is fine,” Leorio said.

“Kurapika. Please, just Kurapika,” Kurapika said.

Leorio inclined his head in agreement.

“I’ll have Pakunoda get in contact with both of you about the specifics,” Lucilfer said, “But I think this should happen sooner rather than later. Monday or Tuesday, perhaps.”

Leorio frowned, but he didn’t say anything.

“I think that covers everything for today,” Lucilfer continued. “Feel free to leave at any time, Mr Paladiknight. Kurapika can show you out.”

He left them alone, and Leorio sighed, hand running through his hair again.

“I’ll have to work this in around my shifts,” he said.

“We could arrange for someone to stay with Gon, if you’d prefer to keep him away from the media,” Kurapika offered. He had no idea if Lucilfer would be willing to arrange that—but if he weren’t, Kurapika would just have to change his mind.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a friend who takes him,” Leorio said. “He’s an artist and he mostly works in his apartment, so he usually doesn’t mind.”

“That may be for the best.” Given that Lucilfer had employed someone like Hisoka, maybe he shouldn’t be trusted with finding someone to babysit a child.

It then occurred to Kurapika that his offer could have been taken in a negative light.

“Not that I wouldn’t want to meet Gon or anything,” he added hastily.

Leorio laughed, and the sound sent strange vibrations through Kurapika’s chest.

“I wouldn’t blame you if the idea did send you scurrying away,” Leorio said. “Kids are terrifying. You should’ve seen my friend’s face when I told him I was gonna foster a kid. He actually started looking up the numbers for local psychiatrists. I’m not even joking.”

Kurapika chuckled—and the action caught him totally by surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found a man like Leorio to be genuinely amusing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever laughed with anyone except Melody. That was… new—and very unexpected.

Also, not entirely unwelcome.

Leorio looked just as surprised as Kurapika felt. His small brown eyes sparkled with an intensity that made Kurapika feel both as if he wanted to bask in it and run away from it.

Fight or flight? Kurapika wondered. Should that sort of thing even happen with a romantic interest?

But this wasn’t technically romantic, Kurapika reminded himself. It’s business.

Maybe, maybe it could become romantic one day, but as long as Lucilfer and the company were involved in it, Kurapika doubted that could ever happen.

“Speaking of Gon, his soccer practice ends soon,” Leorio said. “One of the other dads said he’d take him if I was late, but I really should be there.”

Kurapika nodded in understanding and stood. “I’ll show you out,” he agreed. “But first… can I give you my phone number? Just in case you have a problem and you can’t reach Melody or Pakunoda?”

The chances of that were nil, but Kurapika needed the excuse. Just outright asking because maybe he wanted to was unthinkable.

“Sure.”

To Kurapika’s surprise, Leorio didn’t just accept Kurapika’s number, but gave him his own as well.

“I keep ungodly hours,” he warned. “And I sometimes respond to texts sent in the middle of the day at weird times like 1am, depending on my shifts. If you need to get hold of me, texting is best because if I’m working, I’ll miss the call.”

“I understand.”

Kurapika felt eyes on him as he walked Leorio through the building to the foyer. He wondered if there was an office pool happening about how long it would take for the whole thing to fall apart. Usually, Kurapika had nothing against betting pools—but he usually wasn’t the subject of them, either.

“It was nice meeting you,” Kurapika said when Leorio paused by the glass doors. He knew he sounded stiff, but people were definitely staring. Kurapika wished they’d all mind their own business—or get spontaneously swallowed up by the ground.

Leorio smiled, though Kurapika thought he noticed something that seemed almost like confusion in his expression. It was as if Kurapika had just explained his symptoms to him, but those symptoms didn’t match with any condition the doctor knew.

Or, as if the foreign kid had just said or done something… well, foreign, and no one knew what to make of it.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Kurapika,” Leorio said. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”

Kurapika nodded.

With a wave, Leorio left the building, long strides carrying him down the pavement toward the crosswalk that led to the parking garage across the road.

They’d have to get Leorio a parking space. Kurapika made a mental note to ask Melody about that, though he suspected that she might already have foreseen the need.

Kurapika decided he’d grab a bite for lunch, then venture back into the den of technicians and programmers to see if he was welcome again.

As he was heading for the elevator, Melody fell into step beside him. As the silver doors closed, Kurapika leaned back and sighed.

“Did I not actually fuck that up?” he inquired.

Melody laughed. “It seems not,” she assured him.

“Oh, thank God.”

Kurapika let his eyes slide closed. Maybe he could pull this off, after all.


	10. The Account

Uh-oh. Gon’s teacher wanted a meeting with him.

Leorio set the letter down on the dining room table on the pile that required further action. There was no way that could be good.

“Gon, why does your teacher want to see me?” Leorio inquired.

Gon looked away from Leorio’s laptop screen. “No idea,” he said.

“You haven’t gotten into any trouble lately, have you?” Leorio continued.

Gon looked as if he actually needed to think about that. Finally he responded, “No,” with a shrug.

Leorio made to stand, intending to put the ‘trash’ pile into the bin, but Gon spoke again.

“Leorio, have you looked at Mr Kurta’s instagram?” he asked.

“No. It’s probably managed by the company, anyway, Gon. I’m sure it’s not all that interesting.”

“But Killua and I found his personal profile, Leorio,” Gon continued. “You know, he doesn’t always wear suits.”

“”What?” Leorio demanded. “Who is Killua and how did you find Kurapika’s personal profile.”

Gon stuck out his bottom lip. “Killua’s my classmate and his brothers work for Cupid’s Arrow,” he said. “He got the profile name from one of his brothers. Mr Kurta doesn’t post on there much, but…” Gon turned the laptop toward Leorio.

Wow. Gon was right. The name listed on the profile was just Pika K, but it was unmistakably Kurapika Kurta in the photos. It seemed like Kurapika only posted once every few weeks or so, but the photos were… interesting. Kurapika in casual dress was miles away from the Cupid’s Arrow Kurapika.

“I like this one.” Gon helpfully pointed out one photo.

Leorio nearly choked. The usually stiff, uptight Kurapika was wearing a knee-length skirt and a feminine-style peacoat. His hair was brushed down straight and he appeared to have been caught by surprise by the photographer while browsing a bookshelf. It was really cute and charming.

Kurapika might not have posted much on that account, but he had a friend who certainly seemed willing to post photos of him on her account. Leorio’s lips turned up into a smile as he realised that it was Melody’s account—and probably Melody who had taken the photos of Kurapika that were on his own personal account. That was really sweet.

“Gon, don’t tell anyone about that account,” Leorio warned. “Don’t mention it to your classmates and ask your friend to keep it to himself as well.”

“Okay, but why?” Gon asked.

Leorio grimaced as he thought about all of the comments, tweets and posts he’d seen on Kurapika’s public profiles—and a few on his own as well. Kurapika’s personal account should be kept just that—personal. It was clear that his public persona was entirely different from his personal persona—and maybe up until now, Melody was the only person who ever saw that personal persona. Comments and opinions regarding Kurapika’s sexuality—not all of them kind—were already being shared freely. Kurapika deserved to have a refuge free from judgement.

And the photos were great. Kurapika could easily have had a different career as a model. If word of Kurapika’s personal account got out, those photos would be splashed all over the media and then Kurapika would probably delete them. That’d be a real shame—because Leorio intended to go through all of them.

“You should send a friend request,” Gon suggested.

“I can’t, Gon. Everyone knows my profile now,” Leorio pointed out. “And my friend list is public.” Thankfully, the rest of his social media was friends only, and it would stay that way. It would _very definitely_ stay that way. “Maybe I’ll have to set up a new one like Kurapika did,” he mused.

“Can I pick the profile photo?” Gon asked. “We could do a whole photoshoot. Killua’s got a new phone with a great camera.”

“Uh, no, no way,” Leorio said hastily. “I was just thinking out loud. I’m not planning on doing it yet.”

“Aw.” Gon took back possession of the laptop, clearly disappointed. “Can I friend Mr Kurta, then?”

“You could try, but don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t accept, Gon. He might not realise who you are, or he might not want to friend you at this stage. You haven’t even met, after all.”

“Okay.”

Gon tapped at the mousepad and Leorio finally got up to throw the opened letters into the trash. He’d have to see Gon’s teacher tomorrow morning; it was too late to call tonight. He’d duck into the classroom while dropping Gon off—and maybe have the chance to meet this Killua that Gon was talking about. Gon was a friendly kid, but he also spent a lot of time alone. He didn’t talk much about his classmates, so to hear the enthusiasm in his voice when he talked about Killua was unusual. It was also very welcome. Gon really did need to socialise more.

That would cover his Monday morning. Then he’d have an afternoon shift at the hospital, a late night, then a lunch date at the mall with Kurapika—and damn, he couldn’t call it anything but a date. What the hell was he going to wear? Was his favourite navy-blue suit a bit too much? Was jeans and a t-shirt too casual? Should he do something different with his hair?

Leorio didn’t voice any of his thoughts to Gon as he sat back down at the table. Gon was humming as he typed away on the laptop’s keyboard, one foot swinging back and forth under the table.

If Gon heard that Leorio was having trouble figuring out what to wear, he’d be waist-deep in Leorio’s wardrobe, rummaging around for the perfect outfit. Leorio had very little faith in Gon’s fashion sense. He doubted it would mesh with either of Kurapika’s personas.

Which would Kurapika go with on Tuesday? Leorio suspected that it would be his business style, given that there would be media watching them. Or maybe a more traditional, safe casual style, like slacks.

Maybe that was the sort of style Leorio should be going for. It ought to not ruffle any feathers.


	11. The Mall, Part 1

“Kurapika, are you sure?” Melody asked for the sixteenth time since Kurapika had joined her in the car.

Kurapika looked down at himself. He’d opted for a jacket over a conservative shirt and jeans. It was a decent, safe look that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Lucilfer wouldn’t be able to find any fault with it.

Melody, however, appeared uncertain. “It just doesn’t look like you,” she said.

Kurapika just shrugged, because what else could he do?

Since Leorio had taken them up on their offer to pick him up, Kurapika got his first glimpse of Leorio’s house as they did so. It struck him as somewhat unremarkable, but also charming at the same time. The flowers were in full bloom and the trees vibrant and healthy. The house itself wasn’t large, but it was well-tended.

Leorio had clearly decided that the s’afe’ clothing option was the best as well, though that could be his usual style, Kurapika reflected. Since he wasn’t allowed to look at Leorio’s profile (damn it!), he couldn’t say with any certainty.

Leorio sat across from Kurapika on the seat, his long legs turned to the side to avoid bumping into Kurapika’s. One of the perks of Kurapika’s job was use of a limo and driver, and Kurapika would certainly make use of it. Their bodyguards for the day would be travelling in another car to their destination.

Polite greetings had been exchanged, but little more. Kurapika once again felt awkward, though as he always did, he tried not to let it show.

Leorio certainly did look nervous, though. His stare kept swinging back and forth between Melody and Kurapika, though it never met Kurapika’s directly.

“I do hope we aren’t interrupting your work schedule,” Melody said to Leorio.

“Nah. I’ve got the night shift tonight,” Leorio told her. “I’m free until five or so.”

“And Gon?” Kurapika inquired.

“My friend is picking him up and watching him for the night. That’s our usual arrangement,” Leorio assured him.

He had such nice eyes, Kurapika thought. Warm, in a way that Kurapika had rarely ever seen before. ‘Brown’ sounded like such a mundane, boring colour, but Leorio’s eyes were anything but boring.

Kurapika tore his own eyes away from Leorio’s face before it became too obvious that he was blatantly staring. He hated it when people did that to him, so doing it to Leorio seemed very unfair.

“Do either of you know which shops you want to look at?” Melody inquired.

Leorio shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride,” he said. “Whatever you decide is fine.”

Kurapika looked over to Melody, since it was less confronting then looking at Leorio. “I’d like to go to the second-hand bookstore,” he said. He’d been busy with work lately, and he hoped to take advantage of the opportunity to refresh his reading material.

“That should be fine, Kurapika,” Melody said.

Of course it was. The bookstore was a ‘safe’ option, like everything so far had been. Kurapika hoped that no one would be stupid enough to try to get him into any clothing stores—that could really turn into a nightmare. In fact, Kurapika wouldn’t be surprised if Lucilfer had instructed Melody or his bodyguards to keep him away from clothing stores. Kurapika was fully aware that his fashion sense was not ‘marketable’ as Lucilfer had put it once.

What an asshole.

The city flew by the car windows. Leorio turned his attention to the view, and Kurapika was finally allowed to stare without fear of being noticed. Leorio had a well-defined jawline and his skin was nicely tanned.

Maybe the fact that Leorio was Kurapika’s antithesis in appearance had been a deliberate choice by the company? Pick someone handsome and manly to compliment (or emphasise) Kurapika’s smaller, more delicate look?

Or was Cupid actually onto something? Was this the sort of man that Cupid thought was perfect for Kurapika?

If only he knew for sure if the company had interfered with the match. He couldn’t ask anyone because even Illumi would lie to him if Lucilfer ordered him to. Melody wouldn’t, but Kurapika knew that if there had been some plot at work, Melody would certainly have been kept well out of the loop. It was common knowledge at the company that she was close to Kurapika.

Kurapika looked away from Leorio to Melody, who had her phone in hand. She lifted her attention from the screen to meet Kurapika’s eyes.

“Is everything all right, Kurapika?” she asked.

Kurapika felt another pair of eyes on him and he turned his head just enough to see that Leorio was now looking at him too.

“Everything is fine,” Kurapika answered, a thin-lipped smile that didn’t feel genuine painted on his face, no more substantial than the light application of make-up he’d put on that morning.

Melody raised one shaped eyebrow, seeing right through his bullshit like usual. She didn’t call him out, though. She just turned back to her phone.

“So, uh, just how big is this thing gonna be?” Leorio asked, nervousness in his tone. “There’s been no publicity, right, so no one knows we’ve got this planned?”

“A few trusted media outlets know,” Melody corrected. “They would have kept it quiet, though. Else they’d lose any chance of an exclusive.”

Leorio adjusted his watch on his wrist. He had nice hands, Kurapika decided. Broad palms, long fingers.

Stop staring, Kurapika.

“We won’t have to do any interviews or anything, will we?” Leorio asked.

“No. Not if you don’t want to. Feel free to ignore any questions the reporters ask. This is supposed to be just a casual day out. _Your_ day, not theirs.”

Leorio thought over Melody’s answer briefly before nodding. “It doesn’t feel much like a casual day out,” he said with a quirk of his lips and a vague gesture at the interior of the limo.

“Not for you, maybe,” Kurapika murmured. “This is about as casual as it ever gets for me.”

“That’s not true, Kurapika,” Melody admonished gently. “Remember when we went to the Museum of Natural History? And the Yorknew Festival of Flowers?”

Kurapika nodded glumly. He supposed those outings, along with all the others he’d been on with Melody, counted. Still, most people they encountered while Kurapika was in casual dress didn’t recognise him as Kurapika Kurta. The public was so used to seeing him in a suit that Kurapika often wondered if anyone could see past it.

He’d find out very soon if that were actually true or not, Kurapika thought with a wry smile as he adjusted his jacket’s cuff.


End file.
